


Coldhearted

by versigny



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Dirty Talk, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Hate to Love, Love/Hate, Winter, ridiculously happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 06:46:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10238273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/versigny/pseuds/versigny
Summary: Kim Mingyu, in a word, was a fuckboy.





	

_**THUNK.**_  

That was it. A scream tore from your throat like a banshee, probably making the windows rattle more than the offending snowballs that were being pitched at them. You thought your day couldn’t get worse, but you shouldn’t have underestimated him. That was all on you.

So you had reached your breaking point.

There was nothing between your rumpled bed and freezing window pane. At three in the afternoon, you threw it open and shouted at the top of your lungs, refusing to mind the way the frigid air stung the wetness on your cheeks.

“STOP. STOP WITH THE SNOWBALLS ON MY FUCKING WINDOW. I’M TIRED, AND I’M SAD. STOP. JUST FUCKING STOP.”

Mingyu must have been mid-throw, because a weaker _thunk_  resounded on the wall beside your head. At least he’d had the decency to veer it at the last second.

From across the way, you finally saw the tufts of blond that signaled his presence. How many times had he dyed his hair now? You’d lost count, like you had with most other things. Break-ups. Vomiting on the front lawn. Late nights, quit jobs. You wondered, oftentimes, if being Mingyu’s next door neighbor for nearly your entire lives was something of a curse, and if that was the case, how the fuck you were supposed to stop it. It was like no matter what you did you just couldn’t get _away_ from him.

“Why?” he retorted after a moment of thought. Cold anger dropped into your stomach like a stone. Your fingernails dragged against the wood sill and you fought to hold back the bitter tears that sprung up in your eyes for the umpteenth time that day, the wretched tearing in your heart that followed – “BECAUSE,” you bleated back, genuinely anguished and furious and unable to stop any of it, only able to take it out on the stupid fucking boy that was ruining your life, “I JUST BROKE UP WITH MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND AND… AND FUCK YOU, OKAY? FUCK YOU MINGYU. I DON’T NEED THIS RIGHT NOW.”

It all hit you, then. Again. That she had cheated on you – again – and you were not going to take it laying down this time. You couldn’t support yourself anymore, and with a muted sniffle let your head come down onto the windowsill where your arms were, cradling it and crying softly.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, muffled. “Fuck.”

You didn’t hear the crunching of snow, didn’t feel or care about the frost seeming to crawl into your skin. You didn’t even flinch when you felt a warmer, gloved hand card through your messy hair, pushing it out of the way as a low voice asked, “You alright?”

One eye peeked out from your hiding place, and you hiccuped at the sight of Mingyu sincerely looking concerned. There was no mirth, no sadism in his eyes anymore – the snowballs had been long forgotten.

“What?” you bleated back. “O-of course. Sure. Why do you care?”

That earned a solid eye-roll from your acquaintance. Neighbor. Friend? Frenemy. You didn’t even hang out with him, it didn’t _matter_. “You’re going to catch a cold hanging out your window like that.”

You didn’t remember leaving your door unlocked. All you knew was that he had been outside, in front of you, and then he wasn’t – the opposite, actually, inside and behind you, scooping you up from your coffin and closing up the windows before you turned hypothermic.

“Did she cheat on you again?” he asked, calmly. You balked at the words; how did he know?

“’Course,” you hiccuped. “Once a cheater–”

“–Always a cheater. Yeah, I know. I’m glad you broke up, though. You deserve better than that.”

It only then registered to you that Mingyu was tidying up your room. You were sitting dumbly on your bed, a hot mess, while he folded clothes and occasionally peered at the electric kettle you had on your dresser for when you didn’t feel like going to the kitchen.

But why?

You hated each other. Wasn’t that the point of all of this? Weren’t you constantly, always at each other’s throats? Hadn’t you spent years cultivating a true and deep disdain for the other?

If all of that was the case, then why was he being so… so…

“Mingyu?”

Your voice broke, and Mingyu took pause with dirty underwear in hand that he was about to add to the laundry pile. His expression was clear and light as ever; listening without making judgments before you even spoke.

“Yes?” he prompted back.

The dam broke. Hot tears ran down your face without ceasing and you blinked wetly once more as you tried to keep your voice level enough to ask a horrible question:

“Why?”

He didn’t answer immediately. The underwear went in the hamper first, and he poured the hot water in your _More Issues Than Vogue_ mug. You were about to roll over and just go to sleep, pretend this day had never even happened, when he answered.

“Because,” he began, carefully, “sometimes it feels like I’m the only one that can make you upset. The right way. I like bothering you, but I don’t like when you’re upset like… this. It’s wrong.”

Your mind tumbled over itself and you couldn’t find words. Somehow, in his strange admission, an underlying current of endearment, of concern, of care or compassion or something else unthinkable, had been laced in it.

“What?” you croaked out. “What do you mean? Mingyu, this is some kind of joke, isn’t it, because you can’t j-just – just be _nice_  to me all of a sudden, I-I would be stupid to trust this. You want s-s-something, don’t you? What is it?”

He didn’t miss a beat before snapping back, “What I want, actually, is for you to get over that dumb broad who got you like this. Shut up and let me clean.”

You wanted to be angry. Desperately. But it wouldn’t come – only more frustration. Wiping roughly at your face, you glared at his back, his broad shoulders, and spat, “Thanks for that. That’ll really keep me fu-fucking warm at night, now.”

Mingyu’s whole body turned at that, and he spoke sharply, “Is that all you’re worried about? Being warm at night?”

The electric kettle was unplugged, and he kicked a pile of jeans out of the way before crossing your room in three short strides. He suddenly went from a dumb cleaning maid to someone tall and male and taking up your personal space, lingering over you on your bed as he crooned and cursed his way into your head.

“I could do that in a heartbeat,” he breathes darkly, arms coming down on either side of you and making the bed sink heavier with his weight. “If you think I wouldn’t fuck you every single night until you couldn’t think or walk straight, you’re dead fucking wrong. If your ex was just a bed warmer… Fuck, I would just ruin you. I don’t think you could take it.”

There was no hiding your reaction from Mingyu. He’d cornered you – you were soft, vulnerable, aching, twisted up inside. The low tremoring of his promises had your pupils blown and lips parted soundlessly, thoughts foggy with painted pictures of him ravishing you where you remained.

Your finger clung to the bed sheets as you swallowed thickly and mumbled, “I thought you hated me?”

It was a pathetic question, all things considered, but you weren’t wholly in control of your head at that point; not with Mingyu lurking so close like a lion waiting to jump.

Whatever it was in your question, though, it earned that classic almost-eye-roll and heart-melting smile with a faint shake of his head; and when his amusement passed, he tilted his head back towards you, so close you could feel him exhale against your skin, could see his eyelashes slant as he glanced at your inviting mouth.

Mingyu murmured, almost a rasp, “Yeah, about that,” and you held your own breath as he crawled over you, trapping your pliant form beneath him on your messy bed, “I might have a funny definition of ‘hate’.” And that was all the warning you were afforded before his lips captured yours in a searing, burning kiss.

Lightning exploded behind your eyes and shot through your nerves, alighting your whole body to his. Instinctively, you automatically caved in to return his kiss, and your shape curved up into him to somehow be closer.

“Let me,” Mingyu gasped between each furious kiss, “l-let me make you forget about her.”

“Please,” you trilled, trying to deal with the bombardment of sensations; you had never realized how _good_  Mingyu smelled before, like sex, and his cock was absolutely pushed up against your clothed heat with no qualms.

He needed no further encouragement. His teeth found your bottom lip and made quick work of sucking it into his mouth hard, nipping into the softness and licking over the sore he created as you cried out muffledly. Each touch was hungry and calculated, done specifically to keep you on your toes and unable to come back down from the high he was dragging you to.

“Look at you,” he crooned as he pulled away to admire your swollen, bruised mouth. “What a good girl you are.”

You couldn’t form any response outside of trying to lean back in for another kiss, but even that he only snickered at and sweetly kissed your temple. “Shhhhh… You can wait.”

Wait for what?

You didn’t have to wait long for the answer, though. Mingyu wasted no time in prying you out of your clothes, pants first, and burying you with him under the covers to keep in the warmth as he began to mouth at the soft place on your neck.

“ _Oh_ ,” you croaked feebly, “ _fuck_.”

Mingyu laughed against your dampened skin, and you were lost.

He mapped out every line on your nape, cartographing your sensitive flesh with rough kisses and lovebites like an animal marking its mate. All the while his hands crept up your sides, thumbing each hill of you ribcage until he pressed the underside of your breasts, taunting you as if he were thinking of palming them as you so desperately wanted.

“Fuck you,” you whimpered in a plea, and he just laughed harder, more rudely. “H-horrible, fucking terrible, meanie-ass mmmm-mother _fuh–_!”

“There we go,” Mingyu crooned into your ear as both hands took a full grip of your swollen nipples and pinched _hard_ , twisting as he did. The sudden jolt of pain was instantly melted into pleasure and you shook against the bedding and entrapment of his body over yours. “Like that, mmm? Just like that.”

The simple way he kept up his light murmuring like a spellbinding incantation – constant ricochets between lewd praises and humiliating suggestions – had you unable to tell up from down and left from right. All you wanted was for him to just keep kissing you until you could think no longer, until he had encumbered your entire universe and you held no more responsibility for your own self.

“Please,” you whispered stupidly, wanting too many things to verbalize it properly. “Please, Mm-Mingyu, p- _please_ –”

“Please what?” he breathes out, his grin wide and _oh, what sharp teeth he has…_  as if you were Little Red Riding Hood. Fucking wolf, indeed. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me. You need to speak properly, darling dearest. You need to tell me what you want. Did you mean stop? Do you want me to stop torturing your pussy?”

The question had you simultaneously dripping and blushing and indignant as you spluttered, “Y-you haven’t even fucking touched me there, cunt!”

Lightning fast, his eyes narrowed and his smile thinned.

“Haven’t I?” he thrummed, and you felt your entire body clench at once in blissful heaven as two fingers found your overly-slick lips and slid past them tight into your entrance. A silent gasp left you and you arched, fingers clawing for something to hold onto as your walls reflexively clamped around the sensuous intrusion, and you swore you had gone starry-eyed at the dumb realization of _oh, what long fingers he has…_

Had it really been an eternity of this? Seemingly hours passed of Mingyu keeping his digits shoved deep into your channel, distracting you from anything else you could possibly fathom. The friction was slippery and positively delicious, and you instinctively thrust up into his touch to try and get his palm to grind up against your throbbing clit.

“Faster,” you mumbled, and Mingyu was polite enough to comply. Kind of. Instead of _faster_ , he deigned for _harder_ , which was almost the same but definitely more difficult to deal with. Each flick of his wrist started with his fingers slipping out, leaving you almost empty, only to be thrust back in with an electric roughness that had you shamelessly keening off the bed and incoherently yearning for more.

You inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering as they tapped _that_  part of you that made your tummy feel engorged and steamy and ready to burst. Swallowing thickly, you stammered Mingyu’s name over and over in a mindless chant.

“Good,” he rasped after another endless stretch of time. Your cunt was equally stretched and swollen, too-sensitive from his touch as he finally gave in to let his thumb stroke at your clit. “Good girl. Such a good, good girl. Riding my fingers like s-she was born to. You don’t know how fucking _hard_ you make my cock when you talk like that, baby girl, when you squeeze like you wish it was m-my fucking prick in you and fucking you open and… Mmmmm _god_ please let me fuck you I think I’m honestly going to die,” Mingyu’s utterly heart-palpitating spiel spiraled into desperate, self-deprecating laughter making his voice shake. Nothing else could have conveyed how much he wanted you; only that moment of pause, the slip in his dominant colors made you dimly aware of how his hands trembled on you and his eyes were wide and clouded like you were the whole world to him, naked and sweating and flushed from pleasure in your bed underneath him.

Blinking to try and find a semblance of yourself, you choked at first, then blurted, “Please. Please fuck me, Mingyu. I’m begging you.”

Relief flooded him, every inch, visibly. The tension locking up his broad shoulders made them sink and his nearly-anguished expression sedated back into dark lust and control. Immediately his mouth latched over yours in a searing kiss that made the ends of your nerves singe and his hands effortlessly found the _perfect_  way to cup around your thighs and pull them up so your hips were lifted off the bed to meet his own.

His erection was steel-hard and burning hot, and your heart flipped over itself in anticipation, unquestionable need. His tongue lazily massaged yours as he grabbed the condom on hand and tore it open to put it on, no longer in any hurry now that he knew he’d be taking you after all these agonizing years of _waiting_  and _wanting_ , and it took a shrill moan into his kiss to get him to align his head to your soft, soaked lips and begin to press inside.

Mingyu broke the kiss, just for a moment. You were helpless to watch him tongue over his teeth, a ghost of an obscene smirk at the edges of his lips as he watched your every change of expression with blown pupils. You could see your vacantly-fucked face in their black reflection, and a darker part of you went _if only I could be trapped inside of him this way forever and never get out_.

“T-tight,” Mingyu hiccuped, voice low and gravelly and pleased. “Tight, girl.”

You flushed harder and screwed your eyes shut, but he just laughed and punishingly licked your own lips in response. You wanted to laugh, too, but then his hips _snapped_  and you were suddenly swimming in a different place in your head where all you wanted was this, forever.

“Feels g-good when I fuck you, huh?” he hissed, the pace steadily increasing. He was just thick enough and harder than anybody should have had a right to be, and the level of wet you were was nothing short of shameful. His fucking met no resistance, spare from each slick ridge and curve inside you on your walls, and you whimpered and moaned and cried out as you rhythmically clenched around him in a desperate attempt to feel him _more_.

“Ohhh, you love it,” he practically sang, fingers clawing into your soft skin. “You fucking love this. Sweet, sweet baby, when I make you cum… Oh, you won’t be ready…”

And maybe that had given him the idea. With an unhurried finger, he reached between your bodies and kept steadily bucking into you, stretching you like he promised, and pressed down on your hungry clit. All at once, you saw spots of white and swallowed air and choked, and Mingyu’s chuckles were mixed with raw groans as you involuntarily squeezed his length again and again.

“Wait,” you cried, “w-wait, n-no, I don’t w-wanna, wanna c-c-um yet, n-no–!”

“Don’t _fuckin_ ’ care,” Mingyu spat back happily, voice octaves deep and rough like he’d just woken up from sleeping. “You’ll cum and you’ll like it and I’ll fucking feel every second of it, little girl. Hear me?”

“M- _Min_ gyu–!”

The high-pitched protest was met with an uptick in his pace and a suddenly ruthless, sloppy fucking that had you simply lost to the present. Your eyes fluttered back as you succumbed to Mingyu’s command on your body, and with just as much precision he toyed and flicked your clit back and forth, back and forth, the pressure building wildly and uncontrollably in you. You felt like you were going to pop. But you didn’t want to, not yet, not when he could fuck you longer–

“M’gonna make you cum whether you like it or not,” the devil of a boy laughed breathlessly as he rutted your welcoming cunt. “No matter w-what, bitch. Y’r all mine now. You… you gave yourself to me.”

 _Yes_ , your head screamed back, _yes, dumbass, I’m yours, keep me._

“So cute when you’re turned on,” he muttered after that, smiling crookedly. For a split second there was something so, so loving in his gaze it frightened you and changed you all at once, and you had made the mistake of realizing your heart, in its brokenness, was starving for something to fill it up again and mend it. 

And it was Mingyu.

The next roll of pressure he put on your clit, timed elegantly with the head of his cock pulsing into your core, had you tipping haplessly over the edge into ecstasy-wrought oblivion. Your orgasm rippled through you like an earthquake, tearing you apart and leaving you a weightless mess of pleasure on pleasure on pleasure like it was all you were made of.

Mingyu didn’t mind your nails biting into his back, if anything it only served to make him more mesmerized by the beautiful, exquisite look on your face as overwhelmed tears spilled from the corners of your tightly-shut eyes. Your pussy milked him for all he was worth, and Mingyu almost forgot to keep fucking you he was so _absorbed_  simply by you and your climax and oh, _fuck_ –

One thrust, two thrust, two and a half– Mingyu had to bury his face between your shoulder and the pillow to stifle the snarl that came out of his chest, feral in its quality and sending chills down your spine as he poured himself into you.

Time ticked by in measureless increments; the only sign was the uneven quality of his breathing and erratic heartbeat coming from his form, collapsed on top of yours bonelessly and lovingly. Whether he was aware of it or not, his mouth and nose nuzzled the baby-soft skin of your temple, nudging the sweat-sticky hairs out of the way and absently leaving half-hearted kisses against the cusp.

It was, all in all, about six minutes later when Mingyu realized you were crying.

The perfect spell of sinfulness and sex was broken. Shattered, more accurately, as Mingyu’s eyes shot open and his profile turned comically horrorstruck. He sat up so fast he made himself lightheaded, but pushed through it to blubber, “Wh-what’s wrong? What happened? Baby? What did I do? Wh…?”

The sound of his panicked voice broke the damn. Faint trickles turned into full-blown sobs and you couldn’t believe the words that hiccuped out of your mouth: the unadulterated, moronic, ugly fucking truth. A truth with something deeper.

But you couldn’t help it. Your heart ached, so you said it.

“You…” you sniffled hard, digging your palms into your eyes, trying to hide your face, “you… we… We’re never going to have sex again, a-are we? I-I t-t-told you I didn’t wanna c-cum yet! I wanted to f-fuck you longer! I like fucking you, M-Mingyu! Oh n- _no,_  I like you, I like you so much, I want to be with you, I don’t… You don’t… Oh, god–”

One second. Two seconds. Then, Mingyu screamed, and you screamed in frightful surprise, and then almost suffocated on your own spit and snot and tears as he hugged you so tightly your back cracked – in a good way, surprisingly.

“Oh my god,” he giggled into your hair in hysterics, “oh, sweet girl, sweet, stupid girl, I love you, you dumb bitch, I love you and all of your foolish talk. You can’t go. I’ll fuck you every day until I die of exhaustion if you asked. Like…” he paused to take a long, shaky breath, as if he were in disbelief or simply dreaming. “Like. In all honesty, sweet thing, I probably shouldn’t have fucked you only because I’ve been into you for god _knows_  how fucking long now; you’re just not fair. I-I don’t want to make you make a bad decision but… But hey, if you still mean it in a week… I… I wouldn’t mind us being, uh, a thing. You know. A real thing. With lots of sex. Fuck, girl, even no sex.”

He took a moment to nuzzle a hickey on your neck fondly, and give you the kind of smile you only saw in movies that were too good to even have a happy ending.

“I like you,” he whispered, and the heartbreaking smile broke your heart so much it was practically a brand new heart again. It had certainly sounded like an _I love you_.

“Oh,” you croaked, grinning wetly back at your neighbor. “Well. Come prepared in a week, I guess, you rotten bastard. I love you. Really.”

–

Mingyu kisses you long and luxuriously, without any hurry.

Sometimes.

Other times it is brutal and famished like you are ambrosia.

And every single time, from the first fuck to your wedding to each silly precious moment and beyond, he loves you. 

–

(”So, how’s she been doing since you guys broke up?” he asks arrogantly, pouring a cup of coffee and eyeing how good you look in just his t-shirt.

Idly spinning a strand of hair around your finger, you smile absently and glance Mingyu’s way, wondering if you can convince him to fuck you on the counter.

“No idea who you’re talking about,” you answer airily.

[Mingyu, it turns out, is more than happy to comply.])


End file.
